Tragedy Thrills Me
by twilightribbon
Summary: His only friend was an experiment. He fell in love. The experiment killed his family. And then he forgot when he fell in love. AU GinxTōshirō Yaoi
1. Part One

**Tragedy Thrills Me**

**Parings: GinxTōshirō**

**Summary: His only friend was an experiment. He fell in love. The experiment killed his family. And then he forgot when he fell in love. AU GinxTōshirō Yaoi  
**

**Rating: M+**

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Bleach or any of it's character, etc. This plot, situations, etc. is entirely mine and don't even think about plagiarizing it. I gave myself a pat on the back and a cookie when I came up with it.

**Author's Note: **I was in a very cruel and sadistic mood when I thought about this story. It's isn't exactly finished. But I know how I want things to go. There will be death, blood, gore, sex, angst, and sex. Plus some more angst. So sue me. I feel like taking this pairing to the extreme and becoming the master in it. Enjoy the ride. And you better tell me what you think, lol. Reviews really make me squeal. **Also.** I flipped the script in the story kiddies. Good is bad, and bad is good. Heh.

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Part One

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The cells were always wet, puddles mixing with the dirt. It sloshed all over the place when they threw him and the others inside. The mud always clung to him and the rags he wore. What was the point of the dirty flannels if they didn't protect him from the cold at night. It didn't stop this body from shaking and shivering. He had gotten used to the rank odors of piss and death. Spilled blood and decaying fresh. It was all around him. All he could do was accept them. They would heal, the White Coats made sure of that, but the smells would never go away.

They learned to stop screaming, at one point. It was useless, and when it was time for training, your throats would be ripped out somehow. The White Coats made sure of it. There was always a Hollow that would get the job done. was better to hold it in. Some felt nothing. Some felt everything. Their stomachs adjusted to the small portions of food they got. Stale bread. Lumps of cheese. The "special" medicine to slake their thirst. He preferred to drink the dirty water dripping in his cell but Mother had caught on to that, and punished him severely.

Punishment wasn't over of course. Mother was just getting started. She had lots of experiments to try on him. If she didn't stop, she would make the other ones jealous. He let's his hand trace the healing gash that connected his right arm and shoulder. Mother ordered him to stand there and let the Hollow rip it off in one swipe. All the blood made Mother happy, though. She said it was pretty and let the White Coats take him back to his cell. He didn't bleed to death, he was an advanced breed. But he did faint from that white hot pain. And only after two days, when the blood had dried, and his shoulder was forming a stump, Mother decided to give him back his arm. He got lucky-- Grimmjow didn't get his arm back after a full three weeks.

The loss of limbs were casual around here, whatever here was. The dungeons, the underground, hell. No one ever remembered where they came from, or who they were, but they would never forget the feel of the sun on their skin before they woke up here. He thinks there's a way to escape, that there must be someway out. If they got in here, woke up here, they could get out. But some of the others didn't want to. Hope died a long time ago for them.

But for him. There was no such thing as hope. Only survival. Because he knew, absolutely knew, that when Mother got tired of them, she would get rid of them. When they showed defects, or couldn't perform above average, she would kill them. And he was not going to be here.

He hears the iron door open, filling the entire cave with it's rusty groan. Light streams in, and his cellmates moan and try to move away from it, backing up to the wall and relishing in the darkness. He could hear the whispers and the sniffles. They were silently praying to not be picked. To be poked and prodded. Injected and sent out to fight. But he already knew who would be picked. He makes out the spotless white loafers in the dark that came to a stop in front of his cell. He grins at them. The White Coat cleared his throat uncomfortably.

"Number 825. You've been selected to help Mother run the new tests. Stand and move out."

He grins again, maliciously this time. He stands, his thin arms swinging from side to side. The White Coats stiffly turn around and they begin to file out in a perfect line. Everything must be perfect here. He begins to follow only stopping when he hears her voice.

"Be careful. Please come back."

His grin hardens at the sad and pleading tone of Rangiku's voice. She's dying. They all know that, and they've been trying to keep it from Mother. Her body is breaking down, rejecting the last injection, the last upgrade. He thought about speeding the escape, just to get her out, just to let her see the real world before she died. But there wasn't enough time. So he turns and gives her a sad smile. A goodbye. He knows she won't be here when he come back.

"Sorry, Rangiku... If only you'd held on a little longer…"

She is silent for a moment, but her next words shock everyone in the cells. "Kill her. Even if it takes forever. Kill her. Please. For me." It was directed at him and yet to everyone else.

"I will." And then he is gone.

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The smell of the lab makes him sick to his stomach. The high and long ceiling lights make him dizzy. The smell of alcohol and rubber gloves makes him want to puke. As so many years of this, you would think that one would grow accustom to this life or hell. But that isn't what Mother wants. She wasn't her children to be in constant fear, to feel unease around every corner, to feel absolutely sick when it's time for tests. It's her control on them. Soon, soon, he will break that control.

The White Coats lead him to the lab table in the center of the room, and go take up a place against the wall. He gives a mocking smile to the table, wondering what they are going to do today. Will he scream? Will he cry?

The door opens. At once, he is embraced by _her_ and his nose is filled with the scent of flowers. It's odd. He doesn't know what flowers looks like but he recognizes the smell. Roses, daisies, and tulips, even. Her black hair falls onto his shoulders and she smiles against his cheek. He fights off the wave of nausea.

"I have so many things to do to you today." She let's go of him and he's grateful for the air rushing back to his lungs. "But we'll go slow today. I don't want to break you." He wanted to laugh. He was already broken. He watches her pat the lab table. "Up you go." He hates her smile.

The White Coats strap him down on the table, double checking all the locks. He knows he can break them, he just won't. That would mean defying Mother's wishes. The table shakes and he watches the needles unfurl from under the table. Beside his arms, beside his legs, beside his neck, beside his…eyes. That was a new one.

Mother smiles, tapping the touch screen monitor that controlled the table. "After you lost your arm, your body hasn't been adjusting well. I have to fix that." Beeping noises fill the room. It's his heart beat. "And Mother has a gift for you. Your eyes, to be more specific." The White Coats pry open his eye, keeping the wide with metal clamps. The needles are within an inch of the sclera now. Mother looks thoughtful for a moment and then says, "You may scream."

And he does.

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So what do you think? Who is who? Review.


	2. Part Two

Tragedy Thrills Me

Part Two

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They throw him into a cell. But this one is different. Cleaner, more sterile. He can tell because his bare feet slips on the tiled floor as he tries to maintain his balance. He isn't greeted by the smell of death, or the muffled cries of his cellmates. His hand comes in contact of a wall, smooth and confining like always. Just cleaner. He decides that he likes this change except, he wishes he can see.

Mother made sure the bandages would never come off by his hands, and his eyes ache with a dull pain. It's annoying. The pain and loss of sight. He needs to see, he to plan his escape. He can't just sit here and do nothing. He backs up against the wall and slides down, pulling his knees up to his chest. He focuses on the room he's in, listening for sounds besides the beating of his heart. He has to stay on point. No matter what.

Something crackles above him, a speaker. He flinches a bit and moves away. Too loud. Just too loud.

"Man, this place sucks."

He snorts. "One would think Hell could be described a tad bit better."

Shuffling is heard in the speaker and a disbelieving voice asks, "Hello? You can hear me?"

He wants to roll his eyes for a minute after that reply, but nods nevertheless. "Yes, I can hear you. Hello to you too."

There is silence now, but then he hears the buttons being pressed, things beeping altogether. "I think I see you. You have white hair? Or is it purple?" The voice is young, very young.

"It's both some say," he confirms. "Just a purple tint. How can you see me?" .

"There are like a billion TV screens in my parents office but I can never watch cartoons. And I think I pressed the speaker button for your room by accident. Sorry." Gin grinned. Screw the formalities. Time to dig for the information. It seemed Mother got some new interns. Really stupid ones with children.

"It's okay," He says, cheerfully. "It's nice to have someone to talk too."

"I agree," the voice says. "What's your name? I'm Tōshirō!"

"Number 825." He wished he had a name like Tōshirō. Or Rangiku. Numbers were boring. Never mind the fact that the number represented him as one of the many experiments that were created in Mother's lab. The number left him with a hollow feeling inside. But that didn't matter. Numbers were boring.

"825?" Tōshirō repeats. "That's stupid. It's a number not a name."

He shrugs. "What can I do about it?" It really doesn't matter to him. Really. Silence stretches over the room. He sighs. "What if you gave me a name, To-Tōshirō?" Yes, he stutters. It's foreign to him. The name is lie to him, a false symbol of hope, friendship. All he wants to do is use this person.

"That's a good idea!" Tōshirō happily replies. He hears a zooming sound. There are cameras in the room. "Hm. I would give you a name based on how you look but those stupid bandages are in the way." More zooming. "Wait! Number 825, that's it !" He hears movement in the speaker, followed by the rustle of papers. A lot. "600...700..810...820- there, 825!"

He grins. "Where else would I be?"

Tōshirō snorts. "Oh, haha. My parents have lots of files here. I saw your number yesterday." He freezes. Files. _Files. _"Ah hah! Your name is..is… G-Gin? Gin! I can't read Kanji well, sorry."

He- _Gin, _is frozen. He actually has a name. Gin. It's amazing. A mere child found his name. It couldn't be just pure luck. If he had a name, maybe he had parents. Maybe he had family. Maybe he wasn't born from chemicals and flawed hollows. Gin ignored his breathing, which was coming in quicker and quicker. So much to take in but it was just so…wonderful to think about so much more.

"Gin?" Tōshirō interrupts. "Are you okay? Don't you like your name?"

Gin exhales slowly. "Yes. Sorry. I am just… hungry."

"Oh. I think I hear my mom. Got to go. Bye." Click. And Gin is alone again.

But he has a name this time.

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It's been days. Days since Gin has last heard from Tōshirō or Mother. His stomach aches with hunger, and his head is sore from the tight bandages. He's plagued by fatigue but can't bear to rest. Gin must always stay on his guard. He's in a corner of the cell now, curled up tightly, trying to ignore the growls from his midsection.

An eternity later, locks slide open and the cell door creaks open. Gin hears footsteps pad toward him, the smell of food filling his surroundings.

"Gin. Gin, it's me."

"…Tōshirō?"

Gin is pulled into a hug at once, only surprised at how small Tōshirō is. "How old are you?", is blurted out.

Tōshirō pulls away. "Hello to you too. I'm ten. And I brought you some food!"

Gin hesitates and presses against the wall some more. Food? _Finally_, but… "Why?"

"Because were friends, duh" is the sarcastic reply and a tray is thrust into Gin's hands. He hesitantly feels around, since his waiter forgot to tell him what was on the surprise menu. A faintly warm roll of bread. Cold, thin squares of cheese. Slices of something he isn't familiar with. A mug of water. Gin has only dream of this much food. Then again, he's only dreamed of eating food that wasn't injected inside of him.

There's silence, an uncomfortable silence, until- "Well aren't you going to eat?"

Gin turns his head away. "It could be poison. "

"Wanna share it? I'll even feed you!" Gin faced Tōshirō. And immediately opened his mouth. Really, how could he deny that? He was lazy at times. And as Tōshirō starts to feed him, Gin thinks that being lazy isn't so bad now.

Day after day, Tōshirō comes back. With some food too. They become closer and closer. Weeks go by, and Tōshirō talks about the world above and shares the fruits he snags from vendors before coming down to this place. Tōshirō is welcomed of course, Gin just expects Mother to 'visit' him as well. Not to feed him, but to check on him and tell him that he can take these annoying bandages off of his eyes. It's nearing the end of the month, by his count. Tōshirō is rambling on how the laboratory lights are hurting his eyes. Gin isn't sure that he has eyes anymore. He reaches up, and pulls at the bandages, scratching them, tearing at them.

And then Tōshirō takes hold of his hands. "Stop."

Gin snarls and slaps the boys hands away. Just who did he think he was? "Back off."

But Tōshirō grabs his hands again. "I heard the lady talking about you. It isn't time yet."

The lady? Gin pauses. "Mother?"

The shock is evident in Tōshirō voice. "She's your _mother_? You look nothing like her!"

"No one does. We're 'adopted' she says." Gin leans forward. "Tell me about my eyes. Am I blind? Do I still have them? What did she do?"

"I…I don't know." Tōshirō sounds nervous. "They've been having a lot of meetings and today. my parents told me to stay outside. And I heard _her_." He holds Gins hands in his again, which are shaky.

Gin sighed. What was she up to? He couldn't do anything stuck in here. How was he supposed to kill her and get out of this hell hole? There just had to be way. Gin couldn't stay in this stupid cell, doing nothing, seeing nothing, talking to a White Coats' child!

"I used to get tired of coming down here, you know. I would miss the real sunlight and fresh air as I watch the underground wall close everything off. And then I met you."

Gin grins. "Like a lovestruck child. What's next? A proposal?"

Gin doesn't need eyes to know that Tōshirō is blushing. "S-Shut up! I meant that as a friend!"

Gin's head slowly tilts to the side, bandages covering eyes that would blinking in confusion. "Do you not have a lot of friends Tōshirō?"

Gin can hear Tōshirō shuffle around awkwardly. "Not really. I guess friends aren't included in the 'Child Prodigy' package.

"Child prodigy? You? Oh please," Gin says, the laughter clear in his voice.

Tōshirō shoves his shoulder roughly. "S-Shut up! My parents call me a genius! Other kids aren't like me! I'm way smarter than 'em!"

"I can tell." For a child like Tōshirō, Gin thinks that's it amazing to have such a bright personality down here in nowhere. Truly. "Don't ever change Tōshirō."

Tōshirō is confused at Gin's words, more so his smile. Then he begins to pull out something.

"I was reading some of my dads paperwork on his emotion experiments and I made this."

Gin feels Tōshirō tie something around his neck and he reaches up in question.

"It's a dragon. Made out of glass. It's clear but the reinforced chemicals inside the glass will change color inside depending on your mood."

Gin fingers the dragons, the smooth scales and horns, the body curled around the cord. "You really like dragons don't you?"

"Yes," Is the stiff reply.

Gin laughs. "I do admire snakes. However some say I should favor foxes. I've no idea why though."

And the speaker screeches and crackles.

"Tōshirō? What are you doing down there?"

Gin exhales with relief. It's a woman's voice, but not Mother's. He feels Tōshirō get up and instantly misses the warmth of his hands. But he doesn't understand why.

"Mom?" The worry is evident in Tōshirō's voice. "What's wrong?"

"Your father messed up experiments; from the calculations to the surgery! You have to get back to my office now! We have to get out of here!"

"B-But Mom," Tōshirō argues, "I don't want to leave yet, G-Gin, he's my fr-"

"Tōshirō! He's a failed prototype, he doesn't matter! If that woman finds out what your father did, she'll kill us all! We have to go, **now**!"

"Go Tōshirō." Gins voice is cold. He doesn't want Tōshirō to go. No, he wants him to stay, desperately. But with Mother… Tōshirō needed to leave.

The child dropped to his knees and pulled a very shocked Gin into a hug. Gin could feel his tears fall onto his neck. Hesitantly, Gin embraced Tōshirō back.

"I'll miss you," Tōshirō chokes out.

"Tōshirō, you have to leave! Everything is packed!"

"I-I love you Gin. You were my only friend. I'll never forget you-"

Gin has so much he wants to say but he has no idea why his throat is so tight or why his mouth is so dry its as if it's sealed shut. But he forces the words out anyway. "Don't forget me Tōshirō and I'll find you. I swear I'll come back to you. Just don't forget me."

Gin can hear Tōshirō choke on his tears but he can feel the boy hug him tighter and nod his head. "I promise. I promise."

And then Tōshirō is gone.

Gin doesn't jump when the sirens come on or when he hears the guards footsteps and loud voices outside his cell. But he does jump when his cell door opens and Mother's perfume assaults his nose.

"Gin," she says in such a sickening sweet voice. "I think it's time I let you out of here, don't you?"

Gin presses himself against the wall, trying to focus on his thundering heart beats and not the sound of her footsteps coming closer and closer to him.

But she's there. In front of him. And he's frozen by fear as she cradles his head with one hand and traces the bandages covering his eyes with the other. "I think it's time I let you see the world again… and the traitors who live in it."


	3. Part Three

Rushing this one out. I'm alive and back. The following chapters and stories will be much better- I will make more time for this.

First year of uni is just.. consuming.

* * *

When Gin came to, he feels alive. Mother had fixed him, she had upgraded him.

He couldn't see, though. He is still on the cold, hard lab table and her hands are covering his face. He can still hear the monitors, the blaring sirens above them, and the footsteps of the white coats running around outside.

Tōshiro.

He bites his lip suppresses the urge to jump up and search for the boy. As questions overwhelm him, Mother finally speaks.

"Its time to play, 825. Time to clean up the useless trash."

Useless trash. Someone fucked up. Her tone is colder, deadlier and Gin understands what she wants him to do. Again. She moves back from him, letting her hands fall away and at once Gin is assaulted by his abnormally heightened senses- his eyes, his nose, his ears, his skin. His whole body is on alert more than ever, he is aware of everything. Too much.

But then he smells it.

Tōshiro's shampoo. The fresh fruit he's always eating-

The blood.

Before he knows it, Gin is jumping off the lab tab table and dashing past mother, too caught up in the rush of adrenaline and chemicals to pay attention to the smirk crossing that pale, flawless skin.

The outside tunnels are a wreck, debris falling and crashing everywhere, bodies strewn across the ground. What the hell happened since the gas knock him out? Surely, he hadn't been out that long?

Where.

Is.

Toshiro?

He's dashing now, bare feet splashing in cold puddles of God knows what, being cut up by the jagged rocks. He can barely control his body, he has no idea what Mother has done to him; slipping and falling, the control over his limbs fading in and out as he slams into a wall there or trips over a limb over here.

He spots the somehow familiar shock of white hair on the dirty ground.

Gin doesn't exhale until he is by the body, so cold but a pulse is there. He gathers the boy into his arms. Tōshiro's eyes are closed, hiding those sea green eyes Gin had to imagine in confinement. Gin looks over him; a few nicks and bruises. He had never realized how small and fragile Tōshiro was before, he was really only a kid. Unconscious. If Gin believed in those Gods Rangiku would always pray to, he would be thanking them right now.

Gin is jolted from his thoughts at the sound of hurried footsteps rushing towards him. Two white coats, a man and a woman, pulling Tōshiro out of his arms. Gin stays silent and lets them, fingers itching under the urge to break them in half.

"My baby," the woman cries. "Stay away from him!"

The man is tugging her back urgently. "We have to go-"

"No. You have to stay."

It is as if everything freezes, when that sickening, gentle sweet voice envelops them. Mother. Behind them. Flawless and clean, impervious to the dirt and dust around them. She's smiling again. "I'm afraid I can't let you leave. Thieves never go unpunished."

At her beckoning, Gin sullenly makes his way to he side, kneeling obediently, head down. Her surprisingly warm hand begins to stroke his head. From under his silver purple fringe, he doesn't take his eyes off of Tōshiro.

He barely pays attention to the conversation, trying to form a plan on how to get Tōshiro out—safe and alive.

"P-Please, we didn't take anything-"

"Stop lying."

"Please you have to-"

"Enough." A sharp pain and she is pulling Gin up by his hair. He holds in the hiss of pain, remembering very well how Tōsen became blind, just by letting that small whimper escape. Her grip tightens and the fear begins to settle in. _What if Tōshiro gets hurt?_

"I hope it's worth dying over. Gin. Ikorose."

And then Gin's vision dims to nothing.


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